


College Ruled

by bonzai_bunny



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Drabble Collection, First Kiss, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Steve Rogers, Scars, Self-Harm, Tattoos, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonzai_bunny/pseuds/bonzai_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are a collection of ficlets about nerdy (senior) Bruce and punk pre-serum (freshman) Steve at college. They're in no order and tags update with each new part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said this is in no order and there's no end game or anything, just drabbles around interactions. I'm also going to explore some ideas about the characters (warning for everything about Bruce's past) as a heads up. Also, these are all on my tumblr in my [college au](http://bonzai-bunny.tumblr.com/tagged/college+au) tag with some extra tidbits and drabbles if you're interested.

Bruce sighed, mildly frustrated. He knew that Steve had no intention of studying anymore, not with the way he kept staring at Bruce’s lips (and not in the way he did when he couldn’t hear and was trying to lip read) and definitely with the way they were practically glued together on the dorm couch, Steve nearly in Bruce’s lap, nuzzling against his shoulder. 

"Steve your exam is tomorrow."

Steve didn’t quite pout, but he definitely had the puppydog eyes going on, which were only magnified by his eyeliner. 

"It’s six o’clock! We can take a break and then continue working. I already know most of this anyway."

"You and I both know that if we take a ‘break’ we won’t get anything else done tonight," Bruce said, but truthfully Steve had that look on his face that said that his mind wouldn’t be changed. Case in point, Steve put his hand on Bruce’s thigh and tugged on his sweater.

"Steve," Bruce said flatly.

"Bruce," Steve replied with a raised pierced eyebrow and really, half of Bruce’s resolve was gone by then. 

"Don’t you want me to suck your cock?" Steve asked, looking a little shy of innocent, as he rubbed circles on Bruce’s thigh. 

Bruce’s ears turned pink and he knew that there were certain parts of him that weren’t disinterested. “Of course but…”

"You know how much I love having you in my mouth. You’re so big, I could choke on you."

"God," Bruce muttered hotly and then groaned when the other rubbed against his tenting crotch. Steve had definitely won this argument, there was no doubt about it. He sighed when Steve took initiative and got on the floor between Bruce’s legs and Bruce felt himself harden in anticipation.

Steve’s slender fingers made quick work of his zipper and he rubbed against his hand flat against the bulge in the other’s boxers and Bruce groaned, settling deeper against the couch for what would undoubtedly be a wild ride. Steve didn’t even have to coax Bruce’s cock out of his boxers, because he slid through the opening in them as soon as he was fully hard. 

Steve paused, biting his lip in concentration. He had been chewing on his lips all evening—a habit of stress—so his lips were blood red and Bruce wondered if he could get the other to wear lipstick sometime. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts when Steve wrapped a hand around the base of his dick before sucking around the head. He hissed, being careful not to buck his hips. This was only the beginning and he didn’t want Steve to actually choke. It was hard though, especially when Steve’s tongue piercing ran over his slit. 

"Steve," Bruce groaned, loud enough that the other could hear and Steve’s glance towards him was positively wicked. After that, Steve got back to work, slowly bobbing down on most of Bruce’s dick even though Bruce was big enough that his girth stretched Steve’s mouth obscenely. Bruce’s size didn’t seem to bother Steve, not by the way Steve moaned around it and the way his eyes slid shut when he got spectacularly into it. He worked like he was born to suck dick.

His eyes were shut now as he got more and more into it. Bruce could feel it every time Steve swallowed around his cock and the deep vibrations of Steve’s moans were tearing him apart. He could feel his stomach drop and his balls tightening as Steve got him deep enough that his nose brushed against the curls at the base of Bruce’s cock.

"God I’m gonna—where do you want me?" Bruce choked out, surprised that he even had the forethought.

Steve pulled back with a wet slurp—god, if his lips looked delicious before they were absolutely sinful now—mindful of the precum Bruce was dripping all over the place.

"On my face," he said, and wrapped both hands around Bruce. His cock was wet enough that Steve had no problem jerking him off and that heat resumed in Bruce’s belly. He didn’t think Steve wore his glasses just for this occasion, but it was convenient eye protection and it got Bruce’s imagination rolling.

"Come on Bruce," Steve urged, throat raw, like he was just as invested in Bruce coming as he was. Bruce was positively dripping now, making a dirty mess of his jeans and Steve’s hands. Then they locked eyes and it hit him like a bolt. Bruce’s hips stuttered as he bit back a moan and his cum landed in streak across Steve’s face, hitting his lips and glasses. Then Steve was on his cock in a second, sucking through the aftershocks.

Bruce had to nudge him off when he got too sensitive and Steve looked positively wrecked for someone who hadn’t gotten off yet. His face was flushed and his pupils were enormous and Bruce wondered the best way to get him off.

"I want to eat you out," he decided and Steve’s eyes got bigger.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Think of it as a reward for studying so hard today."

Steve didn’t have to be told twice before he was climbing out of his ridiculous skinny jeans. And when he was screaming into the couch pillow with Bruce’s tongue deep inside him, Bruce couldn’t help but think that this was a break well deserved. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little fluff before some more heavy stuff starts.

Bruce wasn’t sure what to think about Steve’s familiar behavior. He had developed a crush on the other almost as soon as they had met, with his adorable punk ass, but Bruce was tentative to even call them friends a month into their tutoring arrangement. When they did become friends, he was happy to accept it even though that meant he got snapchatted in the middle of the night because of Steve’s frustration over his art homework. And then Steve started touching him.

Bruce thought that this was just what Steve did with really close friends. He would bump their knees together while eating, he would rest his head on Bruce’s shoulder while Bruce explained a math problem to him. There was even a suggestion of cuddling that was quickly withdrawn at Bruce’s startled and confused look.

(Bruce had to admit that he still felt guilty about that.)

But none of that meant that Steve liked him, right? Bruce wasn’t great at interpersonal relationships enough to tell about those kinds of things, as rarely as someone did take an interest in him, but he knew that someone like him had no business being with someone like Steve.

Except Steve apparently did not see it this way at all.

It was after Steve’s math midterms (which Steve busted his butt for and nearly burnt himself out on his other classes as a consequence). Bruce was startled to have his dorm door swung open (it was rarely locked as Steve was always coming in and out) and Steve came barreling through it with the biggest smile on his face Bruce had ever seen.

"I got a B!" He shouted.

"That’s great," Bruce smiled back, extremely proud of him. He was, however, not expecting Steve’s arms to swing around his neck and for Steve to kiss him square on the mouth. Bruce was too shocked to do anything but stand there and Steve evidently took this as a bad sign and backed off, looking mortified.

"I’m so sorry—I thought—I shouldn’t have assumed—"

"No don’t be sorry I—I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you."

That seemed to startle Steve. “Really?”

Bruce nodded, feeling slightly breathless. “Yeah. Of course.”

And then Steve frowned, suddenly annoyed, “Well why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

"I don’t know. You didn’t strike me as someone who would go for someone like me. Plus we had just met so," Bruce shrugged slightly. 

Steve ignored the last part. “What do you mean someone like you? Someone smart? Kind? Generous? Someone with a surprisingly wicked sense of humor?”

"I meant schlubby." 

Steve cracked a reluctant smile at that, “Well, you could stand to clean more.”

Bruce sighed fondly and took Steve’s hands into his own. “Steve Rogers, my name is Bruce Banner and I would like to kiss you.”

Steve, still smiling, leaned in. “I would love that.”

They kissed: a tentative touch of the lips that felt warm and safe until it felt right to make it deeper. Bruce put his hands on Steve’s waist and felt warm and delirious like he couldn’t stop. Steve clearly felt the same, groaning as Bruce sucked on his bottom lip before their tongues met together. It was basically the fastest, dirtiest kiss Bruce had ever had and he shivered when he felt something slide against his tongue that wasn’t exactly fleshy. He backed away, confused, until it registered:

"You have a tongue piercing?"

Steve grinned lazily, “Yeah. Let me show you what else I got.”

That alone got Bruce’s blood pumping and he groaned when Steve wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck and dragged him back into the kiss. Steve’s lithe body felt good against his and Steve’s tongue was wicked against his own. He bit back a moan when Steve’s leg brushed against his crotch. It seemed like all that was keeping him together fell apart when Steve murmured hotly against his lips,

"God, I want to fuck you."

And Bruce froze. “Steve that’s um…”

Steve backed away with his brows furrowed. “So you wanna fuck me? That’s fine.”

"No, not…it’s not that. I think we should take this slow."

All of Steve’s confidence and bravado seemed to disappear at once and he looked down at the ugly dorm carpet. 

"Oh," he sounded disappointed and when he looked up, he avoided eye contact. "You can just tell me, you know. I won’t be offended that you don’t want to have sex with me. I can take it."

Bruce wondered how Steve could arrive at a conclusion that was so far from the truth and quickly took Steve’s hands, shaking his head. “No, no, no, that isn’t it at all I’ve just…I’ve never done anything with a guy before. Not for real and I need to pace myself so I don’t look like an ass.”

"Okay," Steve nodded after mulling over the information a bit. "What do you want to do?"

"Well I’d like to continue kissing and you mentioned cuddling once or twice?"

Steve immediately brightened up, “Yeah that sounds like a solid plan.”

Bruce smiled, relieved, “Good.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce lets Steve tattoo him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for implication of self-harm as well as past abuse (basically Bruce's childhood and all). There's some world building here with a Bucky cameo.

Steve knew that Bruce wasn’t the most comfortable with his skin. He had a lot of scars, especially on his chest and back and had a row of faint lines across his wrists that could have only been caused with a blade. It was obvious where they had come from but Steve never asked about them and Bruce never told him anything. Steve had just given Bruce’s wrist a small kiss when he saw them for the first time and then went back to kissing the rest of him.

Because of this, Bruce only wore long sleeves in public. It took them a long time for Bruce to even take off his shirt in private when they were fooling around, but Steve had understood. And then it became his mission to convince Bruce that he really didn’t mind the other’s scars at all. 

They had come a long way since then, to the point that Bruce allowed Steve to practice tattoo designs in washable marker on his back. 

"I’m gonna mark you up one day," Steve said distractedly while trying to figure out the coloring that would make his whale seem three dimensional on Bruce’s back.  

"You already do," Bruce said, turning a page of his physics book, not even minding the way Steve was sitting on him anymore. 

Steve looked up, realizing he had spoken out loud. “Hmm? Oh no I mean permanently. I wanna get some ink on you.”

Bruce craned his neck, “Really?”

"Yeah you’re my favorite canvas. I’d love to have my art on you permanently."

"What would you do?"

Steve shrugged, “I don’t know, what do you want? I don’t wanna put a tattoo on you just because I like it.”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows and after a moment he decided, “I don’t know.”

Steve patted his side, “Well think about it okay?”

And then the conversation ended as Steve got back into his drawing and Bruce into his reading. Steve had mostly forgotten about it the next day when they gathered at their usual dining table for breakfast. Steve was pouring an unholy amount of syrup on his waffles when Bruce said,

"Rebecca." 

"What?"

"For my tattoo, I’d like the name ‘Rebecca’, if that’s okay."

Steve probably should have realized that Bruce would never ask for anything extravagant and nodded, “That’s fine. Is she your friend or something?” He asked, hoping that it wasn’t a former girlfriend because those types of tattoos never boded well for anyone (and not because he was jealous or anything.)

"No, she’s—she was my mom," Bruce said quietly and Steve immediately understood. He knew that Bruce’s mom was dead for reasons that Bruce didn’t want to explain and Steve tried not to pry about. 

"Alright. I’ll make it perfect," Steve smiled and reached for the other’s hand. Bruce gave a weak smile back.

—o0o—

Steve had never stressed so much over a single design in his life. He said he wanted to make it perfect and that’s exactly what he was going for, but he couldn’t figure out how to make it clear that the tattoo was a memorial and not just the name of some ex-girlfriend.

He tried many different typefaces. He tried designing his own. He asked Bruce for his input, to look at about twenty different fonts and choose one but Bruce just kissed his forehead and told him he’d get it.

Apparently Bruce had enough one day, because he suggested to Steve, “Why don't you just write it?”

"What?"

"The script? You have pretty handwriting, why don’t you just write it?"

"My handwriting’s not pretty," he muttered sullenly and Bruce gave him a look.

"It’s a lot prettier than mine. Here," he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Steve, "Just write it. Make it cursive if you want." 

Steve sighed but wrote out the name on the paper—albeit slowly and especially ornate—and when he was done Bruce praised him.

"That’s perfect. I want that on my shoulder."

"But—"

"It’s perfect, babe," Bruce repeated, before kissing him again. Steve relented and they set up a date for the tattoo.

—o0o—

Steve was especially nervous the day of. Not only because he really really did not want to mess this up, but because this would be the first instance that Bruce met his other friends (well, friends besides Sam but no one could ever find fault with Sam.) Bruce was always busy, either with other tutoring jobs, with his numerous projects, or generally being the general overachiever that he always was.

When Bruce got this gleam in his eye and started writing things down manically, Steve knew it was time to bail and he normally spent the weekends working on a few clients or helping out around the shop. It was a second home to him and honestly, he should have introduced his friends to Bruce sooner than this but, well, hindsight was 20/20.

Steve was mostly nervous because his friends could be eccentric to say the least and he didn’t know how they would take to Bruce and vice versa. But the tattoo was important, even if it would only take all of five minutes to do, so Steve led Bruce into the shop nervously but with hope in his heart.

It was a small shop called “The Black Widow” the baby of Steve’s friend Natasha, even if she technically didn’t own it in its entirety (the owner was actually her girlfriend—a woman named Pepper Potts who was apparently an extremely formidable businesswoman). She basically taught Steve how to tattoo and often asked for his design input on bigger pieces. She had done many of Steve’s tattoos herself.

There was also Bucky, Steve’s childhood friend and the closest thing Steve had to a sibling. He used to be the main piercer until he lost his arm in a car accident and now mostly stuck to the register (although Steve claimed many times it was just to flirt with the customers) and did inventory and basically everything to make sure the shop didn’t end belly up.

And finally Clint, who took over piercings after Bucky. He was a bit of an oddball, someone who was relatively new in their circle of friends. He could either be the most serious or the most sarcastic guy ever and it was hard to tell what mood he would be in. Steve suspected that some of his ‘mysterious’ nature was mostly an act.

When Steve and Bruce entered the shop, Bucky was at the register, giving them an odd look.

“Hey Buck! So um, Bruce this is my best friend Bucky and Bucky this is my um….Bruce.” They hadn’t actually decided on the terminology for their relationship yet but thankfully Bruce ignored this.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” he said as he stuck out his hand for a shake. But instead of shaking it, Bucky just stared at Bruce’s outstretched hand until Bruce awkwardly withdrew it.

“Pleasure,” Bucky said and Steve shot him a look. Steve grabbed a contract from the counter and handed it to Bruce telling him to go ahead and look over the sheet while sitting in the chair in the next room. When the door had shut, Steve immediately hissed at Bucky,

“ _What the hell was that about_?”

“I don’t like him.”

“You don’t like him?!” Steve all but shouted, “You just met him!”

“He gives off a weird vibe! I don’t like it. You should be careful.”

Steve sighed, frustrated, “Bucky, we’ve talked about this. Not every one of my boyfriends is a secret abusive jerkhole. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. Literally. I’ve seen him try to free the bugs that end up in his dorm.”

Bucky seemed to be a little reassured at that and his shoulders relaxed. “It just seems like everything you’ve told me about him sounds too perfect. It’s weird. And since when do you date people who wear sweater vests?”

“He’s not perfect, believe me. And you can’t say anything about fashion choices, not since that bohemian girl you dated.”

Bucky actually cracked a smile at that with a dreamy, “Yeah,” before sobering up, “You know I’m just worried about you. Believe it or not Rogers, you are not the best judge of character. You want to believe that everyone has a secret gooey center but sometimes their insides are just shit.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, “You mean they’re all full of shit like you?”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m being serious. Be careful, alright.”

“I will,  _dad,_  thank you.”

“You’re an ungrateful little punk, you know that? Does he at least treat you good?”

Steve gave a slight smile and said seriously, “Yeah. He’s wonderful.”

But then Bucky grinned and asked, “Does he fuck good?” and Steve’s ears predictably went red.

“I’m not having this conversation with you!” Steve shouted and then immediately left to go check on Bruce. The other was looking at the pictures on the wall when Steve came in and Steve hugged him from behind.

“Hey, sorry about that.”

“Is he an ex-boyfriend?”

“No, just a friend. He’s a little overprotective though.”

Bruce snorted, “I gathered.”

Steve tugged on Bruce’s sweater and said, “Come on let’s get you tatted up. Did you sign the contract?”

“Yeah,” Bruce handed it over. Steve then did the usual basics of reminding Bruce of how to take care of the tattoo, showing him the stencil and verifying that it was correct with no misspellings and finally said,

"Alright take off your shirt and straddle the chair."

Bruce gave Steve a look, probably picking up on the innuendo, but did as he was told. Steve was glad that their tattoo room was private and away from the rest of the shop because he had no doubt how uncomfortable Bruce would be about revealing his skin. Steve snapped on his gloves and gently laid the stencil down on Bruce’s shoulder.

"Tell me if it’s too much, alright?"

Bruce nodded and then winced when the tattoo gun touched his skin. He was a good subject though, and remained still until the tattoo was complete. It was discreet, but pretty. He gave Bruce a small mirror to look at his back at the big mirror in the room and Bruce’s eyes watered when he saw it.

"Thank you," he said softly and Steve hugged him.

"I’m just glad you like it," Steve said sincerely. When they broke apart, Steve put antibacterial ointment on it and bandaged it, giving Bruce instructions (again) on how to take care of it.

"Steve," Bruce interrupted, "we practically live together. I know if I forget anything you will remind me and berate me."

"I know," Steve sighed, "I just want it to be perfect."

Bruce pulled Steve closer and kissed his forehead, “It already is babe. It already is.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets into a bar fight before Thanksgiving and everything goes wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh well. I've always wanted to play around with the idea of Bruce going into a blackout rage when someone he loves is harmed and beating the hell out of someone. Warning for violence, homophobic slurs, and even more stuff about Bruce's childhood.

It was nearing Thanksgiving and Bruce and Steve were both a little down about the upcoming holiday, Bruce more so than Steve because Steve at least had Bucky and his whole crew of friends to rely on, whereas Bruce just had Tony Stark and his own overbearing Aunt. Neither was an ideal place to be on Thanksgiving.

So before break, they decided to get a few drinks, because why not? Bruce didn’t indulge in drinking often, not least because alcohol was expensive and Steve didn’t really hang around the kind of people who had a lot of parties where alcohol was abundant.

So they went to a bar that students frequented off-campus. It was the kind of place that looked the other way if you had a fake ID, so it was popular with the younger classes. Steve had a fake ID for some reason (he just looked at his shoes and muttered something about tattoos when Bruce asked) so it wasn’t a problem to get into.

Bruce knew that he looked older than he was and it probably helped that he was holding hands with Steve when they stood in front of the bouncer because Bruce could admit that Steve looked 12 on the best of days.

Anyway they made it inside with minimal problems. Not many people were there, as many had already skipped class to go home for break, and it was cozier than usual. It helped easing Bruce’s mood, because he hated the holidays more than anything. It just made him think about the awful things that went on during his household as a child, how his mom had to be on edge even more than usual. 

The alcohol helped too. He was so busy staring down at the bar and thinking his awful thoughts that he barely noticed that Steve was on his second beer when Bruce was just finishing the one. 

"Hey," he nudged Steve, who was drinking like it was salvation, "Slow down it’s not going anywhere."

Steve shrugged but did put the glass on the table. His cheeks were already flush, a testament to how tiny he was. 

"This sucks," he muttered and while Bruce agreed with the general sentiment he wasn’t sure what Steve was talking about.

"What does?"

"Not being able to drink like a normal person. I hate being small."

Steve got this way sometimes, in moods about his body image and health problems.

"If you weren’t small we both wouldn’t be able to fit in my bed," Bruce said, bumping their knees together. Steve cracked a small smile at that.

"You wouldn’t be able to sit on my lap when we cuddle either. And I wouldn’t be able to hold you against the wall when we fuck."

Steve’s ears turned red and he shoved Bruce's shoulder, “Alright, I get it!” but Bruce wasn’t done. He leaned over and laid a sloppy wet kiss on Steve’s forehead saying,

"I like your body no matter what."

Steve was trying not to smile as he wiped the wet spot off of his forehead when someone behind them muttered,

**“** _Fags_ **.”**

Both of them bristled but Steve began to get up, a fighting look in his eye, and Bruce clamped his hand down on Steve’s shoulder to prevent him from going after the guy and causing a scene.

Steve shot Bruce a dirty look and Bruce knew that they would probably fight over this later, but Bruce was tired and break was almost here and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his evening patching up his boyfriend’s face and said as much.

"Can we _please_ have an evening together that’s quiet? Can you give me that, at least?” He asked tiredly.

Steve slumped down, some of the fight taken out of him but he muttered,

"People shouldn’t be talking like that is all," before chugging the rest of his beer. Bruce didn’t comment because he didn’t want a fight, but now they were both angry at the comment and each other. Great. This was the exact opposite of how he had wanted the evening to go. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, frustrated.

They drank in silence for the next few minutes until Steve announced unceremoniously, “I gotta piss.”

He stumbled off of the bar stool and headed towards the bathroom and that was that, Bruce guessed. Bruce started texting Tony because he had nothing better to do and weighed the pros and cons of going to Tony’s house for Thanksgiving.

On one hand, it could be fantastic if it was just Tony and Jarvis. If Howard and Maria were there it would be awful and awkward, but then again if they weren’t there, then Tony would be upset as much as he tried to hide it. Bruce wasn’t sure he would be able to be an emotional pillar for his friend, considering how awful the holiday was for him too. 

Five minutes passed and Bruce wondered if Steve was okay, but decided to give him privacy. 10 minutes later, Bruce had the feeling something was very wrong, so he paid for the drinks and went to the restrooms to find him. 

Steve wasn’t there. 

He checked around the rest of the bar and then went outside and found him, fighting with guy who called them fags earlier in the alleyway. He was getting the shit kicked out of him, if the blood running down his nose and his black eye was any indication. Bruce sighed and wondered if he would be able to break them apart. 

Steve got a good punch in the guy’s gut, but the victory was short-lived because Bruce registered a flash of something metallic before he realized what it was and by then it was too late. The blade was embedded inside his stomach and Steve fell to the ground in shock and pain, clutching his bloody wound and Bruce was livid.

He saw his mother’s head hitting the ground, cracking, in a pool of blood. He saw his father standing over her and he saw himself, utterly useless against Brian Banner. He could only think that Steve was going to die in a similar manner and he couldn’t protect anyone he loved, only this time he was bigger and he could do something back.

He could do something. 

He could do something.

He could do something.

A yell that didn’t sound like his own escaped him and he went barreling into Steve’s attacker, shocking the other into dropping the blade and knocking him to the ground. Bruce’s fist smashed into the guy’s face before he even realized what he was doing. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His fists rained down again and again and again and he felt bone snap beneath his fingers and blood spray across his face and the guy wasn’t even fighting anymore. 

Bruce was vaguely aware that he was screaming the whole time, yelling things like, “How could you!?” and “If you touch him again you’re dead!” and it must have caught someone’s attention because the next thing he knew, he was being lifted away from the guy, who was bloody and motionless.

"Calm down, calm down!" Whoever was holding Bruce back said in his ear, "I know that guy’s a piece of shit, but I really don’t think you want a murder charge."

Bruce stopped struggling, shocked, as what he just did sank in. He turned around and saw it was the bouncer who was holding him.

"I’ve called for an ambulance. Your friend’s doing better now than this guy."

The mention of Steve drained all of Bruce’s energy and he looked over where Steve was still on the ground, clutching his wound and Bruce rushed over to him, feeling awful that he had flown off the handle and forgotten about Steve in the meantime. 

"Steve?" He asked. Steve looked paler than usual and Bruce had a bad feeling he was going into shock. 

"Hey Bruce," he said back, with a smile that was more of a wince, "I’m an idiot, huh?"

It was such a relief to hear his voice, Bruce nearly cried. “I need to get you to the hospital, okay? Can you walk?”

Steve nodded and Bruce helped him stand up gingerly. 

"I’ll stay with this guy until the ambulance gets here," The bouncer said, kneeling beside the unconscious guy after taking his pulse. "I’ll explain what happened."

Bruce nodded, even though it didn’t stop the sharp stab in his chest from the realization that if that man died, Bruce would be a murderer like his father. 

"Thanks," he muttered before guiding Steve to his car. He wrapped an old jacket around the wound and drove like mad to the hospital. They were checked in immediately with Steve being whisked away to check if he had internal bleeding and if he needed to be operated on. Bruce was surprised when a nurse pointed out his split knuckles and gave him antiseptic ointment and bandages. 

Then there was nothing to do but wait in the emergency room. Bruce was too sick and dismayed to do anything but sit there. It felt like he was waiting for judgment or something.

He wondered if that other guy was still alive.

It was about two hours later when Bruce was allowed to see Steve. The other was in a hospital bed with oxygen and an IV, but he was alive and when Bruce saw him he burst into tears. 

"Hey now," Steve frowned and ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair when Bruce sat in a chair next to his bed. 

“’Tis but a scratch,” he assured and Bruce choked out a laugh through his tears.

"Don’t joke about this, this is awful."

"I know but the doctors said I’ll be fine. It’ll be okay."

Bruce wanted to believe that. He put his head down on the bed and cried, “I’m a monster.”

"No you aren’t. You got rightfully angry and then got carried away."

Bruce shook his head, swallowing the lump in his throat, “You know I felt his bones break? And I-I just kept going and going and now he’s probably dead because of me. I’m just like—”

Bruce cut himself off because he had never told Steve about his dad.

"Just like what?"

"Nothing."

Steve sighed, “We don’t know anything yet. If he’s dead, then we’ll deal with it when the time comes.”

"You don’t mind dating a murderer?"

Steve gave him a look, “You’re not a murderer. If you were, I wouldn’t want you in this bed, cuddling me, because I can’t have pain meds until there’s less alcohol in me.”

Bruce chewed on his lip. “Are you sure?”

"I’m as sure as this hole in my stomach, get over here."

Bruce sighed and climbed into the tiny bed, being mindful of all the equipment. He laid his head down on Steve’s chest and it was comforting to hear his heartbeat. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About two weeks after Thanksgiving and Steve confronts Bruce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so first thing: this takes place after another part that I didn’t finish writing because it was hard and I’m lazy. It took place during thanksgiving (after, you know, Steve got stabbed in our last update). The most important thing is that Steve revealed that he was in an abusive relationship in high school and that’s why Bucky is so weirdly protective.
> 
> Also, this has discussions of self harm as a warning.

It was over a week after Thanksgiving and things seemed…weird between Steve and Bruce. Bruce seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him (which was difficult considering they more or less shared a dorm room) and shrugged his way out of any attempts at intimacy. They had hardly even kissed since Thanksgiving. Steve didn’t know if it was because Bruce was too worked up over Steve’s confession about his relationship with Brock or if Bruce was too keyed up about upcoming finals, but Steve promised to confront him about it.

It happened on one chilly day where Steve wanted and needed the warmth of his boyfriend. He hugged Bruce, who was sitting at his desk, from behind, and buried his face into Bruce’s neck, but Bruce just shrugged him off like it was nothing.

“I’m not in the mood, okay?” The other muttered, turning back to the papers on his desk. Steve huffed, finally having had enough. He stood behind Bruce and crossed his arms.

“What’s your problem?”

Bruce looked over his shoulder, “What?”

“You’ve been weird and distant since Thanksgiving. What happened? Is it because of what I told you? You don’t need to like, insulate yourself to protect me or something. I’m an adult, okay?”

Bruce spun around in his chair and sighed, “No, it’s not that” in that quiet way of his, which only served to make Steve angrier.

 “Then what? Do you just not want me anymore, is that it?”

“ _No,_ ” Bruce started, “Steve—”

“Because you're doing a really good goddamn job of making me feel like it.”

Steve looked away and his eyes were hard and wet. Bruce internally cursed, realizing that he had truly upset the other. He sighed again and took off his glasses to rub his forehead. He hadn't planned on telling Steve this, ever, but if the secrecy hurt their relationship then maybe it was for the better. 

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Yes,” Steve said, still not looking at him.

With a little hesitation, Bruce rolled up his sweater sleeves and revealed fresh bright pink lines running across his upper wrists and Steve’s hard expression immediately softened.

“Bruce…”

Bruce looked down at his lap and began to fiddle with his glasses, “I’m sorry for not telling you. I didn’t know how you’d react, I guess.”

“You thought I’d be angry?”

Bruce shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought your reaction would be. It’s just…I haven’t cut since freshman year and…”

“And you felt ashamed,” Steve finished for him and Bruce nodded sadly. Steve could see how much the other was hurting and took the opportunity to climb on his boyfriend’s lap, wrapping his arms around the other’s shoulders, and Bruce melted into him immediately.

“God, you feel good,” Bruce murmured against his skin and Steve snorted softly.

“You could have found that out two weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry—” Bruce started but Steve shook his head, cutting him off.

“It’s okay.”

They held onto each other for a while; with Steve running his hands through the other’s curls until Steve spoke up:

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but, can you tell me why you started again?”

“It’s…a lot happened Thanksgiving week. I had to think about things I try not to think about and I guess I was just triggered.”

Steve looked concerned, “Is it because of me getting hurt?”

“It’s more like, hurting that guy and thinking I killed him made me bring up a lot of painful memories, but you’re right. Thinking he had killed you didn’t help either.”

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

Bruce frowned, “Steve—you were  _stabbed_. It’s not exactly your fault.”

“But still.”

“But nothing.”

Bruce held to Steve a little tighter and it felt good, better than he had felt in a while. Maybe he was an idiot for denying himself this. He had missed Steve's smell, his warmth, and even his bony butt.

“Can you explain it to me?”

“Hmm?”

Steve looked up, “Why you do it, I mean. Again, you don't have to answer that if you don't want to."

Bruce sighed and leaned back in his chair. "It just feels...good. Like at first, I guess I started because I was so angry and hurt but then it just felt good to do when things were awful."

Steve bit his lip, processing the information. "Can you at least tell me when you feel like you're going to hurt yourself? Maybe we can figure out to do something else."

Bruce felt like he couldn't promise but he nodded, "Sure."


End file.
